by Rahul Bhattacharya on Friday, 17 July 2009 at 21:27
another day went
it still escaped her whisper
the smile did not shine today
or maybe its just the sun
lost in the shade of a lost melancholia
the writer picked up his pen
an exciting evening passed
not even a breeze touched his soul
that longing for the lost shine that did not belong to him
cut short the memories that were to come
lost in the strains of a shared melody
the writer picked up his pen
the night approached as they knew it would
he had not seen the stars yet
as the consolation of the internet ruptured the soul yet again
baby pink and a smile surfaced in his memory
knowing that people are sitting down for dinner
the writer picked up his pen
it still escaped her whisper
the smile did not shine today
or maybe its just the sun
lost in the shade of a lost melancholia
the writer picked up his pen
an exciting evening passed
not even a breeze touched his soul
that longing for the lost shine that did not belong to him
cut short the memories that were to come
lost in the strains of a shared melody
the writer picked up his pen
the night approached as they knew it would
he had not seen the stars yet
as the consolation of the internet ruptured the soul yet again
baby pink and a smile surfaced in his memory
knowing that people are sitting down for dinner
the writer picked up his pen
No comments:
Post a Comment